Napoleon, Baby
by alynwa
Summary: Written for the Song Story Challenge on LJ. The prompt is "Santa, Baby."


Illya walked into the Commissary promptly at one o'clock to meet his partner. He had been working in the labs all morning while Napoleon had to attend the bi-monthly Section Heads meeting with Mr. Waverly. He saw the CEA sitting in the area favored by Section IIs, sipping coffee and perusing a magazine. He got in line, picked out soup, salad, a ham and cheese hero, four small containers of chocolate milk and two slices of apple pie. He paid for his food and went to join him.

Napoleon looked up as Illya sat down, glanced at the Russian's loaded tray and said, "I'm so glad I've already eaten! Did you leave any food for anyone else?" An eyeroll was his only answer.

Illya began to eat in that hurried, almost frantic way Section IIs had perfected. The soup and salad disappeared in less than ninety seconds and it was only when he was halfway finished with his sandwich that he slowed down enough to speak. "What are you reading?" he asked around the huge bite of food in his mouth.

"The Neiman Marcus Christmas catalog; I'm trying to pick out something for Aunt Amy."

"Oh, I see. Perhaps I could find a gift for her, also," he said as he pulled the catalog to him and flipped it around so he could read it. Napoleon laughed out loud at the look on Illya's face. "Bozhe moy! What kind of decadent, capitalistic, materialistic…!" he sputtered in complete shock.

"Partner Mine, calm down before you have a stroke! Neiman Marcus is famous for their catalogs; it specializes in one of a kind, luxurious presents. I was thinking that I would get her a month – long cruise on the QE II."

Before Illya could answer, a group of secretaries, half of whom the CEA had dated previously, strolled up to the table. Wendy, who seemed to be the ringleader, smiled and pulled the front of the catalog so she could see the cover. "I told you, girls, I'm right! It _is_ the Neiman Marcus catalog! Napoleon baby, are you looking for gifts for us? I'll take that sable coat right there."

Suzanne, a blonde who in her heels stood as tall as Napoleon, bent down and pecked his cheek. "I wear a size twenty – eight foot yacht, but a car will do. I'm not greedy."

Joanne, a short brunette who had had several dates with him, laughed as she stepped forward and began to flip pages. "You women are out of your minds! Napoleon isn't buying any of those things for you!" She found the page she was looking for and stopped. "Napoleon Darling, I could use some new ornaments for my Christmas tree." She pointed at the solid gold bejeweled ornaments adorning the page. "These will do nicely."

As the gaggle of secretaries continued to pick things out of the catalog, Napoleon sat stunned and flustered while Illya's smile grew wider as the gift requests grew more and more outlandish and expensive. Only the trilling of the CEA's communicator stilled their voices as they knew it was probably Mr. Waverly.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Mr. Solo," the British accent intoned, "Is Mr. Kuryakin with you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Report to my office immediately."

"Yes, Sir!" Napoleon disassembled his device and stood. "Duty calls, Ladies," he said as he put on his jacket, "And I'll be taking _this._" He picked up the catalog. "And not to worry, I will be buying something for all of you. Come on, Illya." As they exited the Commissary and headed to the elevator bank he said, "I have never been so happy to be summoned to the Old Man's office in my life! It was like a shark feeding frenzy back there!"

Illya was still grinning as they stepped into the empty elevator. "Perhaps you should do your Christmas catalog shopping at home from now on, my friend. I never got a chance to give you my opinion: I am sure Aunt Amy would enjoy a cruise. And now, a question: What are you _giving_ all those women for Christmas?"

"I have no idea, yet. I'm just thrilled that no one asked for a ring!"

"The famous Solo Luck strikes again." The elevator doors opened on Mr. Waverly's floor. As they walked down the hall, Illya said, "Perhaps your luck will continue and we will be assigned an affair that will last until after the New Year."

"One can only hope."


End file.
